


The Night We Met

by EllaAniMine



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Betrayal, Except that he does, Geralt Misses Jaskier, Geralt does not have emotions, Heartbreak, Jaskier has many emotions, Jaskier misses Geralt, Lonliness, M/M, One Shot, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Regrets, Sad, Songfic, but he will never admit it, but only subtly, but they never talked about it, i dont really know how to categorize that relationship, i'm not really sure what else to tag, not really - Freeform, post-mountain, there is regret, there was kissing, they were not in a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaAniMine/pseuds/EllaAniMine
Summary: Geralt Left Jaskier behind after the mountain and that was supposed to be the end of it. But it wasn't and now Geralt cannot stop the steady stream of thoughts about the bard, and the sad song that he keeps hearing everywhere is not helping matters.Jaskier was lost after the mountain, and with little direction or motivation in his life anymore he mostly wallows in despair. He thinks of Geralt and all of the time that was lost to following and looking up to someone who had never cared about him.*~*~*~*Based on the Song "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	The Night We Met

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself that I wasn't going to start a bunch of new projects when I already have enough trouble being an adult with things like work to do, but then I swear all of the pieces fell together and I listened to this song on a drive home from said job and it was raining, and I had thoughts and ideas..
> 
> It happened, and I certainly did stay up too late writing it and posting the rough on my Tumblr when I 100% should have been sleeping in preparation for the job that I need to go to every day that earns me money.
> 
> But at any rate, this exists now and it no longer has to take up my thoughts and attention. Unless it gets super popular. Then I may be forced to expand upon it. So... you know, pros and cons. Make of it what you will.

The wind whistled through the trees like a heartbroken sigh. It cried out across the distance as though it could pierce through ones heart. Perhaps it could, if the heart it tried to pierce was not made of stone, that of a Witcher. Still, the sound reminded Geralt too much of the wails of monsters before dying. A swan song, of sorts; that of a creature mortally wounded.

It was wrong to have hurt him so on the mountain, wrong but necessary in the long run. It would do no good to have the bard follow him. Still, as much as he tried to forget, Geralt couldn't shake the memories and the feelings that Jaskier had drudged up. He had been his companion after all, one that Geralt had rather unfortunately cared for. But now, at what may be the end of all things, Geralt was alone, just as he was meant to be. No Mage or Bard to keep him company, Geralt took to The Path just as he always had.

There were flickers of him everywhere. The wind through the trees sounded like him; mournful. Every snapped twig drew Geralt’s attention. Worst yet, every town with a bard strumming in the ale house seemed to sing the same song.

_**“I am not the only traveler,** _

_**Who has not repaid his debt”** _

He tried not to listen, but his ears often betrayed him and his head was filled with the lyrics. Sometimes his mind would wander to thinking of what Jaskier might be singing, what sort of scathing remarks he might have put to music in retaliation for Geralt’s actions.

Most nights Geralt had difficulty sleeping. This issue was only exacerbated by the lack of a calm heartbeat nearby to help him feel as though he were a little less alone in the world.

_**“I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again...”** _

Jaskier was well and truly lost in the world. He slowly bounced from town to village, drinking all the ale he could get his hands on and trying to scrape together enough meager coin to survive. His situation was hurt by the fact that lately he couldn’t bring himself to play the lively tunes or dramatic ballads that had won him fame and prestige. Rather he favored plucking slow and mournful notes from his lute, whispering and whimpering words that would sour even the worst drunkard’s fine mood.

He thought of where he was going in life. More directly, he thought often of where he should go more immediately. Perhaps Oxenfurt would permit him to return, although he wasn’t sure how useful he could make himself as a professor in such a sorry state. He would no doubt be unwelcome at his family table should he ever try to return home. His mother had made very clear what she thought of his chosen profession as well as his choice of company.

But he was without company anymore, and soon to be without a profession if he could not turn his life around.

Jaskier sighed to himself, rolling over in the hay that he had scraped together for a bed. He mumbled sorrowfully to himself

_**“Take me back to the night we met.”** _

Geralt tried various ways to take his mind off of the stupid bard and all of his tunes and lies. No matter how hard he threw himself into hunting, or how many prostitutes he paid, Geralt still found his thoughts drift. Jaskier had not been such a huge part of his life, or so he had thought, but the near constant stream of thoughts seemed determined to convince him otherwise.

As Geralt lay staring up at the ceiling after a rather athletic bout with another whore, he thought he may need to seek a mage or a healer to clear his head of the excess.

_**“Then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do...”** _

*~*~*~*~

_**“And then I can tell myself,** _

_**Not to ride along with you...”** _

Jaskier sat curled up in the back of the cart a kind enough farmer had let him hitch a ride on for the next town. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and cradled his lute in his arms. He had not felt such low emotions like this in years, and although he detested to call them so, he could not escape the truth that he was experiencing the feelings of abandonment.

Jaskier stared into the distance, trying not to think of all the times he had walked these roads with Geralt over the years. He tried desperately not to think about all the times he had shared with the Witcher, that he would never be able to get back.

Time evidently wasted.

_**“I had all and most of you, some and now none of you”** _

Geralt huffed at the lyrics that he heard. For some damnable reason the new most popular song of the Continent was about lost love, and the lyrics drove him crazy. There was no escape from it, every bar or inn was taken over by one bard or another singing the tune. It floated on the wind and whispered between the trees even when Geralt chose to forgo a warm bed for the forest floor.

_**"Take me back to the night we met."** _

It was not that he drew parallels to his life, his own lost companionship and love, Geralt insisted that it was simply because all of the bards and poets were pure shit at performing it. He dared not acknowledge the following thought, that he knew of one such person who was not likely to disappoint. It had been almost months at this point, and Geralt still grit his teeth to think of how many innocuous things could force thoughts of Jaskier to overtake his mind. Whatever form of companionship the two had shared was surely not worth all of the trouble he was suffering for having ended things.

_**“I don’t know what supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you”** _

Jaskier felt a sharp pain in his chest. The indecent proposal of becoming another’s bedfellow should have excited him, and yet he could not shake the pervasive ache that such a proposal brought.

He found a sad smile to paste on for show and blamed his lack of interest on being weary from his travels. He left before he could hear another word of argument, favoring to retire to his sparse room for the night and make a valiant effort to not allow himself to weep.

Despite himself, Jaskier lay on the threadbare mattress staring at the ceiling; he felt tears spill over and run down his temple. He wept harder still.

_**“Take me back to the night we met...”** _

Geralt propped himself up under a tree. He had narrowly escaped a violent collision with a territorial griffin, and was rather worse for wear. He tore the stopper from a vial and drank down the potion, knowing it would not cure him instantly but would alleviate some of the pain. The combination of lost blood and the potion clouding his senses permitted thoughts Geralt had shoved away to come to the forefront of his mind now.

He rarely felt fear for himself, as it was his duty to die if a monster ever truly bested him. There were times, though, that Geralt had known fear. He would never allow anyone to know, but here in the hazy theater of his mind he was free to relive all of the negative feelings he had little control over.

_**“When the night was full of terrors”** _

Geralt had known fear but a few times since boyhood. Few things were quite as terrifying as the agony of the Trial of the Grasses, but still there were moments etched into his memory that he would never be able to forget.

One such prominent memory was the day he had watched a curse force blood to bubble up out of his companions sputtering mouth at the grim news that he was likely to die. Geralt had done his best to remain unaffected, but he knew the moment that that Jaskier looked at him he would never be able to forget that sinking feeling of helplessness.

There were so many things he had never said.

_**“And your eyes were filled with tears”** _

As he lay tossing and turning Jaskier permitted himself the small mercy of letting his mind wander to thoughts of comfort. How he enjoyed a good strong wine time and again, or the rumble of pride he felt at receiving an audience’s applause. He mused about soft sheets and a full belly. He thought of the simple pleasures of enjoying his favorite fruit during peak ripeness, feeling the juice spill over his lips and be caught by a quick tongue. He thought of the slide of tongue and mouth when kissing, how a lover might show another affection.

How Jaskier had drawn his own lips chastely over his companion’s not just once when he thought the other was sleeping too deeply to notice.

Those thoughts no longer brought him comfort.

_**“When you had not touched me yet...”** _

Geralt recalled in the gauzy haze between sleep and wake how he had been the recipient of Jaskier’s affections. Witchers were, by nature, extremely light sleepers and as such Geralt had been aware every time that Jaskier had chosen to bestow upon him a light kiss. It was never more than a soft press of lips, and Geralt never dared move or give any indication that he was conscious of what happened, lest Jaskier would wise up and stop permitting himself the indulgence.

Geralt had long avoided thinking of why he never spoke or acknowledged the action, thereby through his own inaction encouraging its continuation. Deep down he supposed he enjoyed it on some level. Acknowledging it would take away the only pure affection Geralt would allow himself to receive, because he was not supposed to know about it. Now, as the potion pulled Geralt deeper into a healing slumber, he longed for the gentle press of lips to his own, and cursed himself both for the longing and for never pressing to see what other affections he may have received.

_**“Take me back to the night we met.”** _

For the first time in a long time Geralt allowed himself to seek a room at the inn. It was supposed to rain overnight and he reasoned that Roach deserved a dry stable to sleep in for all the trouble he had put her through lately. It was already well enough into the evening by the time he staggered inside, and Geralt was hardly willing to invest any unnecessary attention in the other patrons of the inn and ale house. He hardly registered that someone was singing until his ear caught the sound of it better through the general din of the crowd.

_**“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you”** _

Geralt felt his feet stop short at the words. His body turned without his consent and he listened closer to the song to be certain he was not being tricked or deceived.

_**“Take me back to the night we met”** _

There Jaskier practically moaned on a stool as he sang his latest hit. His eyes morosely scanned the patrons of the bar, looking perhaps for any kindred spirits of heartbreak and loneliness. There he found one with particularly rapt attention. A spectre from his past that Jaskier anticipated never to see again.

_**“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you”** _

Geralt felt his sad blue eyes from across the room. He was positive the bard had to feel the intensity of his own golden eyes taking him in. Time felt as if it were suspended, caught in those teary eyes, and the next words felt as if they were merely whispered.

_**“Take me back...”** _


End file.
